Chapter 13
It’s surprising what a four-year-old can remember. Perhaps it’s not so much what they can remember, but more that certain incidents and events stick out because they were pleasurable or beautiful or associated with colour. He had brightly coloured shirts—I remember that. Life of the party, they said of him. A ladies’ man. Never took anything seriously. His name was Jack Tyler, and he left when I was four. The details are sketchy. Then I just came right out and said it.
‘My father played around on my mother and was an undiagnosed something or other. Quite mad. Oh, and no legs either. An accident. He left my mother when I was a kid. I didn’t know him and I was very young so I’m not messed up about it.’
Matthew nodded. He said he had an aunt on his mother’s side who had spent mo
